Best Irradiated Poems
A sigh escapes still, immune to overt silence, unabashed...justified
Another teardrop enters the infinite pool of resilience, uplifting...reinforcing
Another hand empathizes--
touching, impulsively putting one's heart unto wounds, alleviating pain
enfolding memories into paper, ostensibly vigilant
Unborn dreams awaiting fruition.
empty streets, impacted pieces: occupied lives, unwavering spirits
Arighting the entropy--
"Not Impossible!" Heaves Obstacled Nation -- Untiring, Persevering!
A lone emboldened seed is planted, objectifying hope,
ushering life amidst rubble,
engaging tenacity inherently within overburdened, yet undauntable voices
Ardently surging, emerging from insidious waves of chaos,
ultimately touching azure
Time effortlessly moves, insensitive to ordeals
nonetheless, undoubtedly healing...
As wings echo distantly, irradiated winds oscillate
blush unfurling light...
Arise, Sun! Embrace the illuminated blossom. Orbit Love's universe.
0330040203042013
11th March 2011
**It has been two years since Japan encountered
such a devastating triple tragedy
of the earthquake in Tohoku, tsunami and
the Fukushima nuclear plant disaster...
They are still slowly picking up the pieces,
so much needs to be done,
so many are still displaced, uncertain of their futures, of their lives...
hopefully they are not forgotten.
It may take long, long years,
but I honestly believe Japan can rise over this, I honestly hope so.
****Thank you David for this enjoyable challenge.
It has pushed me to approach this topic in a way that
I would have never thought of on my own....
Hot zones of danger,
dark places
where dense hearts go
Hearts that are cold as ice
Roll the dice ...
take a chance on fatal corona exploration
Go ghetto orbital
and gamble with your porcelain life
You’ve been whitely warned:
Shun the spots —
the darkside of the Helios shadows,
where the sun don’t golden glow
It’s best to yield to your coin conscience;
the fade-to-black pulse
of the societal dusk, dimming yellow
Go colonial orbital,
where the cloudless reign
of oppression is rife
And the gravity of poverty
is sol cranial heavy
Irradiated cries cuts through
the poisoned atmosphere of hatred
like a serrated knife
You’ve been white noise warned:
Danger!
Avoid the riotous flares of destruction ...
hot spots,
where obstruction of justice flow
Shun the leper spots
of the volatile igneous rock dimming yellow
Those event horizon spaces —
ephemeral stardust places
that were polarity flux created not to burn slow
5-11-21
As the Dime Store sirens flared
bolts of irradiated invite,
my query was denied.
Their pimp-striped pilots only moaned,
their lust fueled by encapsulated
stench carried only by toothless carnies
from the canyons. Canyons o’ Crazed Confliction.
And behind… the dull dynamo hum.
I screamed for the Kelp Queen to come to me,
her tresses woven wave-like in the wabe.
My demands were simple.
The scars of the trucker's she must carry
(as war carries death)
for inbreeding has tainted her line.
“Can Omaha be far?” she pleaded
and tugged at my inter-ache
as tin balloons tug with time .
“For you?” I replied in a
flatulent belch.
The boiling madness was by now
beyond the horizon but kept in check
still by the neon dogs crouching by day under the interchange.
It is they who will now stalk the disease plagued ports
I sailed from so many
days
and
images
ago.
Until her kleptic crew of vagrants and priests
sprint with me in postpartum harmony.
Hipsters for TRUTH.
Inspired by a tremendously bold & powerful track, “Who we are” by Machinehead
Once upon a misery call
Deception broke bread with diabetic circumstances
Sugar
Coating
Half-assed smiles
Phantoms of a listless fortitude
Haunting today’s unfulfilled promise
As they wear silken layered Khakis
With African cotton dreams
And unclaimed pocket protectors to share their wealth
Amongst other wealthy failures
They ask to make “change”
While folding up heroin-laced $50s under Cabernet bodies of Christ
Once, twice, three times a deceiver
Who dares draws irradiated chalk upon broken billboards
Not the educated teacher
Satisfying extra-curricular agendas
Grading heat-stroked ovulations
On jezebel’s curve
Nightmare of the philanthropist
Giving unto others’ unexplained wishes
The “hungry”, fed
The lonely, shed
S
h
e
d
Shedding retinal rejections
Over misguided wisdoms
As they listen for audible sanity
Wandering within the bellows of an insatiable burden
(Cricket sounds)
©Drake J. Eszes
We didn't go abroad this year, we had our summer holiday
Here in the UK where it had rained all summer long.
We scuba dived in the sea but it was dead, devoid of all
Life; we walked the coastal path to where the bungalow
Fell in the sea last year, near to the wreck of the oil tanker
That ran aground in a winter storm.
On the only dry day we had we went for a picnic sitting
In a meadow beneath an oak tree but there were no wild
Flowers, and no bees either; even the Holly Blue's didn't show.
Only the soft noise of fracking in a nearby field. Cows that once
Graced that field now stand farting and eating their lives away
In a shed that's part of a factory farm.
On our last day we sat in the cafe eating cod and
Chips, cod caught in the Irish Sea loaded with
Caesium 137 and strontium 90 that had been seeping
Out of Sellafield nuclear power station over the years.
We could have had the Pacific tuna irradiated from the
Fukushima fall-out but preferred the cod.
What hides beneath the busting red-tide waves, what wains?
Have you seen the Fat-white, would-be Samurai that lives 'round these parts?
To him you see, the
warrior code is the word of the fiery gods, and he
follows it to the letter:
Two minutes and 11 seconds on high, heat only
when thawed for best results.
A divine wind guides his every move, blossoms and bombs are his
orations, his
deeds are explosions over many oceans, an amalgam of
light and splendor, interracial
hues and shades of color illuminated by the bare bulb above his head.
Pin pricks dot his thumbs, shinto values are not the order of the day. Outside of
his house, we see his vista; a rising sun
shining through blackened thorns and smog.
The burrito is irradiated, ready
for consumption, a victim of the .00005 kiloton explosion within the off-brand microwave.
Our feudal soldier draws his fork from it's sheath, a
tsuba well worn and scarred.
from Juniper’s Daughter:
War Is Obsolete – Futility and Hope
By Nick Armbrister
Caught Up In a Fairy Tale
My dreams haunt me as does the music, drunk I dance to the mesmerizing tales told by the songs of 25 years ago, as real now as back then. The heady rush of the moment takes me and lifts me up ever so high until my primeval fear snatches my euphoria away like committing an armed robbery on a child for his sweets.
Cold war nightmare returns with a dozen vengeances as I dare to lift the veil of the nightmare, I only wanted to peek inside! Nena and Frankie got it right in their two songs 99 Red Balloons and Two Tribes. We really did live in a nightmare but with such erotic desires - do anything you want do coz after they drop the bomb and nuke us all in World War3 no one will be left to care or give a damn.
I hear my mother ask me what you want for Xmas son. Mother I want this... to go back to Xmas in 1986 and to see a nuclear war, for the Warsaw pact/Soviet forces to come across the Fulda gap and the north German plain. For NATO to stop their conventional forces with tactical nukes after air power fails, the heady rush of nuclear escalation killing us all, overwhelming our planet irradiating our world darkening our skies with nuclear mushroom clouds.
On and on and on I writhe in ecstatic enjoyment seeing the work of the devil thru Christian believing Western men bringing on the end of their, our, world stopping the heathen red menace with all they’ve got. You see it was a matter pride not common sense that made them react they were trained well.
Now after watching my Xmas gift, I ask to go home. I hear no reply. Slowly it dawns on me, I can’t go home and there is no home. Just an irradiated world stuck in Xmas 1986, totally destroyed. What did I wish for? Am I dreaming a nightmare that I’m stuck in, did the veil fall after I looked inside drawing me in a prisoner?
I can say what a f*ckin' rush, I don’t need drugs they’re for pussies I just need my Cold War music and my mind that is like a television. On and on the music plays as the Pershing 2 and Cruise Missiles launch as F-16s and other jets battle it out in the winter heavens as the countdown to the end begins.
Who said the darkness wasn’t fun? Who did win in the end of the world?
Hearts irradiated gasp
Neutrons scatter at the clasp
Architecture crumbles heaven
Kremlin scrambles level seven
Xeric tissue lacks retention
RNs wilting for Roentgen
I was born in the year 2423,
gestated in an artificial womb successfully
I drank the nutri-milk
from the dangling nubs on the synthetic tendril teat
I ate the petri-flesh
from the germ-free, sterile laboratory grown meat
My mother and father was the State,
my sister and brother was the corporate Company
I was trained in the art of industrial security,
because it’s a dangerous world
in the year 2443
I don’t have a name, but I got a number
I have a sure aim at anyone who wanders
onto Company property —
a crime punishable by death,
executed by me
I am the judge and the jury
It’s a very dangerous world, you see,
in the year 2453
Got sent on secret mission to the Wasteland,
where the mutated live underground,
beneath the irradiated sand
Went searching for #050279X
She stole a proprietary cure
for anyone stricken with the malware virus,
electronically transmitted by virtual sex
Had my cover blown, now they’re hunting me
It’s an uber dangerous world indeed,
as I fight for my survival
in the year 2463
I got cut off from Mother for the first time,
by a massive surge in solar neutrino energy
It’s strange living without direction,
no automated voice to help guide me
My internal logic neural circuits
suggests a disturbing probability
That I was sent on a ghost mission,
(with no chance of success theoretically,)
to die in the field with honor, most nobly
I am self-aware now,
in the year 2473
The tenth year of living dangerously
has become very familiar to me ...
as I drift through the Wasteland
living mind-control free
After forty years of active service,
I understand now that I had become obsolete
An expendable Company soldier,
born a slave of the State in 2423
Got freed when I got older,
by a quirk in celestial mechanics unpredictability
And now I understand with brilliant luminosity —
living free is the best danger there can ever be
I was drawn to her,
Like a western sunset
draws out the desert life
Her eyes, deep crystallized pools
of reflected whirlwinded emotions
I crave the feel of her skin,
soft and smooth as silk
I yearn for her lips-
tantalizing in their luster-
to meet mine in earnest embrace
I wish to roam my hands
down the stolen body of Aphrodite
To feel her warmth and excitement
held tightly between her legs
My lust grows ever more,
with the moon's haunting gaze
framing her beauty in spectral light
My tongue dances before my very eyes
Traveling down those luscious curves
excitement burning to pleasure,
with every wickedly sinful sigh she gasps
Desire fills my very breadth with her scent
Tenderly I caress her bosom
Her moans fill my core with intense pleasure
driving me into frenzied lust
I take all of her that I can,
her sweet succulence invading my deepest fantasies
Lifting me into an all time high
Her pleasure increasing with my own,
together reaching our maximums
Her moans irradiated in ecstasy
Oh I fervently crave to her cries of passion!
All dancing within my eyes,
in libidinous fantasies inside
cruelty of mind's earnest wishes...
I was drawn to her,
As Nightshade is drawn to the moonlight...
Written: August, 30, 2014
Re: Thank You to unknown
tom, dick, harry, tam, dame,
or dana from the MHS Class of 77,
though this alum
experiences public education
within lower providence jurisdiction
as a bum
er - minimally partaking advantage
of extra-curricular,
collegiate, inter-mural,
et cetera opportunities,
no not even a figurative crum
well nigh convey an impression of being dumb
bull door, deaf, and blind (with out faith no more),
nor passing love notes from
some anonymous girl, who
(after leaving a teasing message
informed asper getting a smart haircut
in ninth grade civics class
taught by Missus Comly
(do not quote me on my
power fully pointed excel lent spelling,
telling nothing, when out of desperation
I experience primal yelling)
this singular potential fledgling flirtation,
the extent from student,
who appeared morose and rather glum
exposing such vulnerability to be hum
millie hated, and bullied relentlessly,
whereat i wish to be a little boy
comforted by me mum
since that option out of the question,
thus aye didst never meet Miss Mot Toe
(e plumbs e num), perhaps cuz eye whiz numb
body, mind and spirit triage as if inebriated by rum
imagining the fighting spirit within me to thumb
or rather "flip the bird" to those,
this then anxiety prone
metaphorically rolling stone
whose metaphorical diet of worms also included
eating picked over sun bleached
un beak coming road kill crow - how yum
me does that seem, but gnome hatter
how grossly said foul dish
spurred via carrion (an analogy
representing verbal taunting
best left for hitch cocked birds) didst not appeal
not in the least did i give nasty brutes a "what for",
twas fear of getting creamed, fricasseed, irradiated...
They have carried me to the slaughter house and butchered me mercilessly. They
have believed what they have done is in the name of righteousness. So therefore,
their hearts feel no remorse for my slain soul. Before my execution, they tried to trap
me with lies, maze of deceptions and plots, but Jehovah rescued me. Jehovah
provided a means of escape for me; nevertheless, my pursuers were relentless.
They had plotted, hunt and irradiated. My assassins prevailed - they have
conquered and killed an innocent me. I had tried to show them that I was never an
enemy, but hatred had consumed their hearts, so they murdered me.
Alice and Alex always ate apples.
Bobby brought baked beans
Carol cooked cleaned catfish
David decorated delicious donuts
Ellen endured eating eleven eggs
Freddie fried five fish
Gina grabbed green grapes.
Holly had Heavenly Hash
Ivan indulged in Ice cream
John just jostled jello
Kim kept kool aid
Lisa loves long licorice
Mike made mini meatloaf
Nan needed new napkins
Oliver offered olives
Peter preferred pumpkin pies
Queenie quietly quit
Rosaline roasted ribs
Sharon sampled strawberry sauce
Tom tossed the tomatoes
Ulysses used utensils
Valerie vegetables varied
Willy wasted watermelon
Xavier x-irradiated xacuti
Yolanda yielded yellow yogurt
Zack zested zucchini
Most of who I am is water
carbon, iron, and calcium,
traces then, of this and that,
atoms quarks, and protons, named, or not.
Known in part to my MD
as a chemical community
of powdered parts and puddles be...
me;
temporarily.
The physicists speak of elements
and catastrophic space events
stirring mixtures interstellar
that gravity will glue together.
Ingredients infinitesimal, irradiated, crushed and split,
potions baked and mixtures frozen,
dense and wet, bright and dark, alive, or not.
Things that feel, things that see,
unlimited variety,
of things that be,
including me.
temporarily.
And time...and change, the bastard twins
will come along to oversee
a return to singularity;
a mutual immortality
It always was,
It ever be.
I wonder why,
Several hundred years ago,
The Yorktown Brits
Played a drinking tune for surrender.
Maybe they thought they were drunk?
Maybe they thought they’d be drunk
The second they got home?
Whatever, nevermind history.
We’ll just loop the tape,
Play it back every century or so.
Now? I won’t go out with a sign,
Say that the worst president has arrived.
Frankly, I don’t think that.
Now don’t lynch me because of it.
First amendment, alright?
Freedom of speech. Something many don’t have.
Be grateful it’s here while it is.
Well, we’ll remember him. That, at least, is true.
But I wonder; in several years,
I’ll play a drinking tune and tip them down,
The bubbling irritating my throat,
Tears running down my cheeks.
Will they be of sadness,
Of seeing an idol, a changer, leave?
Or will they be of happiness,
Of being released from tyranny?
We’ll remember in the future,
Pass down the stories to the generations
Inheriting our messed-up, irradiated society.
That, at least, is true and always will be.